


Delightful, Mr. Lecter

by ryuko matoi (jxkuzure)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - High School, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxkuzure/pseuds/ryuko%20matoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham's substitute AP English teacher is more than cashmere sweaters and classroom etiquette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Delightful, Mr. Lecter

Hannibal

**Hannigram**

* * *

 

Will despised school and especially his last period; AP English--he found it nothing more but the ending of Macbeth; gory. He had it at the end of the day where they only thing he wanted to do was blow his brains out.

Though he was a junior, he felt like he's been in school for over a century. Every day was just a big rewind moment--get up, go to school, come home. What happened in between was nothing more than a blur.

He's made a few friends throughout high school including Freddie (the school reporter), Matthew (the head of the Student Council) and even Alana (Homecoming queen since Will has been at Baltimore High).

None of his teachers were his friends though; he personally had a vendetta on Mr. Crawford, his Physics teacher. Mr. Crawford was a middle-aged man slowly going into his prime but had the attitude of a freaking war general--yelling at the top of his lungs everyday as if he was the town crier. Will never had a good grade in Physics; it was a D-minus, but he managed to pass it for the first semester.

He hated AP Calculus just because Miss Katz irked his nerves. She was a fairly young woman who blabbed about her life as if she was writing an autobiography. Will held no fondness for teachers or consolers--Dr. Chilton had the sights on him. Every day during study hall or lunch the consoler would page him to come to the office--his study hall would howl in unison.

After a while, Dr. Chilton gave up because Will never talked for the whole thirty minutes. He would keep his eyes focused somewhere else and refuse to answer any of the questions Dr. Chilton asked.

 

* * *

 

Will's reputation wasn't a totally good or bad one--it was in the middle. He wasn't the social outcast that Franklyn Froideveaux, the poor freshman was practically reeking in abandonment. Will had only seen him several times whether it was fleeing in tears or face flushed a bright red color. Tobias Budge, a member of the lacrosse team and highest GPA in Will's classes, had helped the poor freshman. He would walk with him to his classes, sit with him at lunch, and even tutor him after school. Once most of the school saw Tobias and Franklyn together, they pushed off the freshman and set on another target; Abigail Hobbs.

Abigail was a sweet pudgy sophomore with wide blue eyes and a kind smile, Will actually enjoyed her presence. She would sit down with him during study hall and chatter away about some comic book she gushed over. It was better than Nicholas Boyle--the fellow junior talked more shit than the actual shit that came out of his ass.

Yet her family had...complications, not in terms of wealth or appearances. It wasn't a lie that Mr. Hobbs was a deviant, a sexual deviant, and had a few charges brought against him already. Will stayed far away from the Hobbs residence after the whole incident had been "solved".

He tried to question some things to Abigail but the girl avoided his questions. Her blue eyes would slit in confusion before widening again as she turned the page of her comic book. He didn't suspect any abuse but it didn't hurt to ask.

Abigail didn't live with her parents anyway, she lived with her aunt almost a whole city away. Will was quite relieved when Abigail shared that to him. His family was a complete wreck anyway--Dad piss drunk every night, mom gone, the same of scenario every night. Yet Will had been adopted, his actual origins was somewhere in western America (he was quite proud because not too many people knew someone from the west)

* * *

  
His "adopted" father was a man from deep Louisiana and hadn't always been so drunk. He drinks but not as excessively as he did when Mrs. Graham started sleeping with a family friend. He managed to stay sober when it came to Will and his education.

Time was on his side once the bell for fifth period ranged, Will nearly stormed out of French three and into the open hallway. Hundreds of kids flooded the halls as he pushed through them all--he needed to get out of school.

He itched for a smoke which he kept safely tucked in his messenger bag. His school had very few regulations and that included security, a kid could skip school all day long and the campus office wouldn't do shit. Will left the main hall and was able to walk around the back of the school, digging in his bag for his precious menthols.

He slid one in his mouth and lit it with the lighter he kept on hand--taking a deep drag and thick white smoke left his nostrils. Will never found cigarettes attractive or plesaing but today had been so shitty that he begged for the awful taste of menthol. He leaned against the graffti-covered wall and closed his eyes--the cool breeze of spring cooling him off.

Even if his life sucked, he knew when he turned eighteen he could leave this place. He wanted to travel--see everything he could with his beautiful eyes and cherish every vision.

He had been daydreaming for so long he didn't hear anyone approach.  
  
"You know you shouldn't be smoking, student.", a deep-accented voice scolded. Will snapped out of his day dreaming and saw a tall man, blonde almost white hair, and a pair of sanguine eyes that looked like bloody cuts. The man was dressed in a cashmere sweater and dark slacks--his hair slicked back and his glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

Will quickly extinguished his cigarette on the ground and straightened up, swallowing the nervousness in his throat as the man (clearly a teacher) looked over him.

"What is your name?", the man asked.

Will looked over the nicely dressed adult and saw a name badge--substitute teacher, Mr. Lecter, and sighed softly. "William Graham, and I'm a junior."

Mr. Lecter didn't seem to impress with the with Will.

"Don't be late for my class, Mr. Graham.", Dr. Lecter scolded once more before walking away--his red eyes still lingered on Will.

Will nodded quickly and threw down the cigarette, extinguishing it with his foot. At least the substitute didn't snitch on him . . .

Will slid into his sixth period class with ease--finding the normally unruly class tamed and docile. Mr. Lecter was seated at the front desk. His red eyes didn't look up from the class roster but only ushered Will to his seat.

"You're late, Mr. Graham.", Mr. Lecter comments. The whole class turns to where Will was seated; far corner of the room. A series of "ooos" echoed in the classroom but quickly came to a stop when Mr. Lecter glared at the class. Everyone returned their gaze back into their textbooks. "Don't make it a habit."

Will sighed deeply and folded his arms on the desk. This was going to be a long period.

An essay prompt had been briefly written on the whiteboard; _describe yourself in a three-paragraphed page._

The class, including Will Graham, groaned at such a cheesy prompt. Teachers who didnt plan to be absent from school always had that last-ditch effort to make students do work. Mr. Lecter seemed more displeased with the prompt that anyone but reassured everyone it was not his idea.

"Just write the prompt to the best of your ability, afterwards, its a free period."

The class rejoiced in unison as backpacks unzipping and binder rings snapping echoed around. A girl next to Will kindly offered some notebook paper and he accepted it. He took out a pen and scribbled down the prompt.

 

 

 

> William Graham
> 
> October 12, 2014
> 
> AP English 3A
> 
> Period 6
> 
>  
> 
> _Describe yourself in a three-paragraph page_
> 
> My name is William Graham and I find this prompt utter bullshit. Yes, bullshit. You can send me to the office for the profanity but I still won't give a shit. I can't tell you how many times I had to write prompts like this. They limit the amount of individuality, meaning, every one is either going to write "intelligent" or "pretty" or "creative". The same freaking traits.
> 
> If you must know whats "unique" about me, I live with an alcoholic father in a lousy house. Oh wait that's not unique, I think that can go to many kids sitting around me.
> 
> So the next time you want to assign an essay, don't use the shitty "describe-yourself" prompt.

Will sat down his pen and looked over his work, a proud smile across his face. He rose from his seat and manuvered through the hordes of backpacks and purses to the front desk. Mr. Lecter gave him a skeptical look before taking his paper.

"Easy as pie, Mr. Lecter.", Will says with a punch of sarcasm in his tone. Mr. Lecter disregarded his comment as other students approached to turn in their papers. For the next hour, Will sat a this desk tapping his pen anxiously. Everyone else got into their social groups and chattered but he was too focused on the clock. He was probably going to go skate with Price or Matthew if he didn't have any Student Goverment meetings. At some point he stopped tapping his pen and just laid his head down on the desk. Sleep could pass the time and Will was trying to throw time down the rabbit hole.

 

* * *

 

The loud ringing of the bell roused Will from his light slumber, a flurry of students racing out the classroom door. The hallways flooded with kids as Will lingered at his desk

Mr. Lecter was going over the essays when he noticed Will was still in the classroom. "Aren't you going to leave, Mr. Graham? Most students can't wait to enjoy their weekend."

Will streched cat-like in his seat and got up, pushing back some of the curls that drooped in front of his face. He picked up his bag and shrugged. "I don't catch the bus so I don't need to rush."

Mr. Lecter made a "hmph" sound and held up Will's paper. The student approached the desk and examined it, a series of red marker all over the paper. He crinkled his nose and was about to rip the paper in two before Mr. Lecter stopped him.

"Don't, Mr. Graham. I am actually impressed with your...words."

Will sat the paper down on the desk and rolled his eyes. "It was a stupid prompt."

"Yet you chose your words accordingly."

Mr. Lecter pushed his glasses up his nose and rose from his seat. He walked around the desk and faced Will, their height difference staggering as well as age. "Don't ever doubt your feelings."

Will scoffed and fixed the strap of his messenger bag. "What are you? Dr. Chilton's sidekick in therapy?", he jested and was about to turn on his heels till Mr. Lecter caught him by the shoulder. Will was whirled around and stunned for the moment until the reality caught back up--Mr. Lecter's lips brushed against his own. He jerked back and only questioned with his eyes. Neither of them spoke as the tension in the air spiced in the intensity. Mr. Lecter closed the space between them again and this time Will pushed him back, anger sparking in azure eyes.

"Don't fucking touch me, you sick shit.", he spat harshly and ran towards the door. He ripped it open and slammed it behind him.

Mr. Lecter sighed deeply and returned to his desk. In a way, Will Graham was attractive with such honesty he displayed in his essay. Such honesty and young revolt was something Mr. Lecter strived for.

Will was that reckless youth that cared little for the future and little about the consequences. Strangely enough it was the kind of revolt that attracted Hannibal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Dubcon In This Chapter**  
> **Technically Not Completed as of 13/10/2014**
> 
> Will Graham returns to school the next day with another vendetta underneath his collar--Mr. Lecter is now subbing for Will Graham's Physics class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (First 1,000 words published on 13/10/2014)  
> Another 1,000 words will come on some day at some time.
> 
> //Officially homeschooled and writing time is limited//
> 
> And I can't say this enough --- My tumblr submission box is always open if you want something written, jeez. It can be a freaking knockoff of Sleeping Beauty--I'll still write it.

* * *

 

Will rushed home after school and didn't bother to even ask if Matthew needed help setting up his campaign; he was going to win no matter what. Frustrated and slightly disgusted, he entered his house and caught a glimpse of his father in the kitchen. Something smelled good and he investigated; chicken frying on the stove while corn and fresh cornbread sat on the counter. His father was a burly man with a thick beard and aged complexion. He was a lax man by nature until he started drinking alcohol--Will made it a mission to get rid of any booze he found in the cabinets.

"William, you're home...quite early.", his father comments as he takes a few pieces of sizzling chicken out the skillet. Will brushed by him and grabbed a piece of cornbread--stuffing it into his mouth before his father snatched away from him. Crumbs fell down on his shirt as he chewed. "Didn't have anything to do this afternoon."

His father grunted in response and turned his attention back to preparing the meal. "Well, if you go out later--I'll put your plate in the oven."

Will left the kitchen and walked down the hallway--fingers brushing polished wood and finally to his door. His room wasn't something of utter importance; it had a bed, a dresser, and a desk. He required little which in favor, his dad wouldn't have to worry about too much of his expensive needs. One thing he did have of value was his laptop, sitting perfectly on top of his bedspread. He got it a year back from Matthew--an early birthday present from his fellow peer. He would have declined such a gift if it wasn’t for Matthew always pestering him about the laptop.

He threw his messenger bag down on the floor and approached his bed, picking up the laptop in his way and powering it up. It was one of those fancy MacBooks that Will could never fathom buying on his own. He checked his emails for a while, mostly from Matthew regarding the campaign, and his instant-messaging. Few had been from people he didn’t know, a few from Freddie, only one from Tobias (asking if Will could attend a lacrosse practice before school).

Will powered his laptop down and sat it beside him, taking a deep breath, and exhaling. His eyes pointed up to the ceiling. He was seventeen years old and life was a nightmare.

It didn't matter how many "friends" or "enemies" he made throughout his childhood, he remembered none of the fond memories. He lived day by day and didn't dwell on the tragedies or misconceptions of life. He thought of cherry red eyes in the back of his mind, unyielding and almost emotionless. Will turned over on his side and groaned--he didn't want to think about that fiasco of a "kiss". It wasn't like Will hasn't kissed one (including Alana on Homecoming night) but it was wrong. Mr. Lecter was so much older and for Christ's sake, he was his substitute teacher!

Yet that silvery blonde hair and deep accent made Will's heart go into a flutter--making his chest feel like lead was inside. Nicholas had been his crush since freshman year, then it was Alana, and finally Matthew but the student body president crushed over Margot Verger (an exchange student from Eastern Europe). Like another shot in the dark, Will had to cope with the loss of a "romantic" interest.

A soft rapping at his door yanked him out of his thoughts as his dad walked in with his plate, chicken and corn piled high with another piece of cornbread. In his other hand was a glass of juice and Will already started to salivate. The plate and glass was set down on his desk and just as his dad was about to leave. . .

"Thanks, dad. It looks really good.", Will compliments as he got out of bed to sit at his desk, moving some textbooks and folders aside. His dad shrugged his shoulders and left the room.

Will ate his dinner and returned the dishes to the kitchen. It was late in the evening when he decided a cold shower would do him some good. Stepping out of his clothes and into an icy cold spray, Will Graham stood there like a shivering mess. The water soaked his curls and drizzled down his face, leaving them paler than his own complexion. His mind wandered from time to time as the bitter cold erased the little he was feeling. The longer he stood there, the longer his thoughts trailed to Mr. Lecter. Tanned skin, silvery hair, and blood eyes that couldn't be of this realm--Will let out a small groan in such delicious thought. His groin flushed with warm heat and his prick twitched in response.

Novice hands pressed the swell down as Will tried his best to trash the lewd thought but nothing could replace red eyes. He never considered dating boys except for Matthew (the kid was smart and very relatable) but something about Mr. Lecter made Will's desire stir. Maybe because he actually listened and agreed on what the teen had to say--or just blind adoration. When he found enough strength to get out the shower with the unwanted erection, Will dried off and quickly got into restricting clothing. His thoughts fluttered away from Mr. Lecter as Will got underneath his blanket--still pawing at the hardness packed into briefs and sweats.

_He's just a substitute teacher._

_oOo_

He couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried. It was about twelve midnight and the hardness jutting against his thigh was starting to become painful. Will threw back his blanket and snaked a hand down his abdomen and into his boxers. Like sparks he instantly moaned and gave himself timid strokes. Weak at first and they gradually became more powerful, Will Graham brought himself to ecstasy in the matter of minutes. He hated Mr. Lecter…

Will Graham woke up the next morning in a daze--barely getting out of bed and stumbling out of his nightwear. A clean pair of pants and dark purple sweater was laid out on his desk (courtesy of his dad) and he didn't bother to take another shower. He groomed in the bathroom and made his way down the hallway. His father was fast asleep on the couch with the TV blaring old-westerns. Will scoffed quietly and left his house, locking the front door with the key, and proceeded down the street to the bus stop. A few kids had begun to cluster as Will approached--none of them bothering to acknowledge his presence. He cared little for what other people thought of him.

The school bus came only a short time later and everyone boarded, Will took his seat and stared out the window. Nothing but fallen leaves and dark clouds--it was probably going to rain later. The bus was dead silent with sleepy kids and those who simply just didn't want to go to school. The bus driver was an elderly man with a receding hair line and a kid-eater. Will Graham stayed out of his way not just because he hated kids--he smelled like ball sacks and nachos.


End file.
